


Beautiful Soul

by FullElven



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-24
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-27 12:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/978727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FullElven/pseuds/FullElven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The moment Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful Soul

"The moment Castiel laid a hand on you in Hell, he was lost."

It was true. Cas looked upon Dean’s soul, watched as the edges frayed from the torture he both received and gave out, watched how potently he felt each and every wound he ever inflicted, and canted his head slightly. For all his want to get Dean Winchester out of Hell, that heavenly hand froze mid-reach to just to watch with a curiosity not unlike a mortal’s. He had been in Hell for so long…well, long by the standards of that realm…and still his soul shined brighter than any other he’d ever seen. 

For all the time he spent upon the hook, it was the time he spent being the torturer that hurt him the most. Castiel could almost read how he tried to rationalize to himself, how the rationalizing became internalized berating, hatred, and loathing. He could see how though he thought he was dead inside, how that light of life left his eyes, his soul refused to lose that shine. 

It frayed, it tattered along the edges like a child’s safety blanket drug far too long across rough terrain. Tendrils of threads hung off it, flowing wildly in the breeze, and yet refusing to unravel fully. Dean Winchester was strong, and the beauty of his soul was greater than any Castiel had ever seen.

“My Father made these humans in His image…” Castiel thought to himself. “…but this one seems closer than any other I have seen.”

And so when he reached through the fires of Hell, while demons hissed and tore at his angelic visage, while Hellhounds barked and howled, and the torture adverted their eyes to his shine…when he finally grasped the shoulder of Dean Winchester, he felt himself filled with him. A warmth unlike any he had ever known filled his every angelic sense, and for an instant, he and the human were one. Castiel could feel all that Dean had ever felt, see all that Dean had ever seen. The happiness, the sorrow…the overwhelming abundance of sorrow, and pain, and self-hatred.

The gambit of repressed emotions caged within his heart that beat within a glass box that said ‘fragile, handle with care or don’t bother handling at all.’ By the sense of cobwebs clutching to the edges of the cracked and what seemed to be often repaired case, it seemed like no one had cared to heed that warning…and yet this human had pulled himself together, put himself back together again, and soldiered on without question.

For such a bright soul, it seemed faith had never shined its light in the deepest reaches of his being. Everything was lonely, secluded, but not without hope. Not without determination.

It was almost too much for Castiel to bear, to know this human had been through so much without reprieve. “Why Father? Why have you allowed this to happen to him? Why have you let him suffer so?”

There was no answer, and the angel—while not surprised—could not suppress his own pain for it. It reflected in the elder Winchester, and he felt that soul flinch like an abused child afraid of every sound, every motion, every breath.

“It is alright…Dean. You have been raised from perdition. You are safe.” 

His words did nothing to comfort him. It was instinct that the human fought against him. Fight or flight, Dean Winchester was determined to fight. Incoherent and frightened, he fight with every ounce of his being against his savior, Castiel, though it was entirely in vain. The angel did not have to try much at all to hold him in his grasp and leave him in a safe place. Still, this saddened him, and though he knew his words would fall on deaf ears, he swore to him. “I will look after you, Dean Winchester, I will have faith in you as no one ever has. And when I find my Father, I will see to it that he does as well.”


End file.
